


our hearts are a herd

by hanyolo



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Season/Series 02 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:09:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanyolo/pseuds/hanyolo
Summary: And sometimes, like now, when Mac is holding onto her arm (it only takes three steps for Maggie to realise this is for MacKenzie’s benefit) and drunkenly giving her excuses for not going home alone, it’s just easier to give in and let MacKenzie care for her in the way she knows how.// Mac insists on Maggie sleeping on her sofa after a night at Hang Chew's and an unexpected blizzard means Maggie ends up spending the weekend
Relationships: Jim Harper & Maggie Jordan, Will McAvoy/MacKenzie McHale
Comments: 18
Kudos: 28





	our hearts are a herd

**Author's Note:**

> okay I have no idea where this came from but it is without a doubt the longest thing I've ever written (please don't hate me for not splitting it into chapters, there didn't seem like a good point). again, literally no idea where this came from and how it ended up being ten thousand words. I don't have particularly strong feelings for Maggie, don't really ship her with Jim either (but that fit the narrative so in it goes), but here we are... anyway hope you enjoy!!
> 
> (edited because of two typos I didn't notice until after posting and couldn't stop thinking about lol)

Dantana drops the lawsuit the first Friday in December, so naturally, the whole staff goes to Hang Chew’s to celebrate - which they all take to mean get beyond drunk. 

Except Maggie. She has two fruity cocktails, one bought by MacKenzie (more likely Will), the other one handed to her by Jim with a shy grin. But she limits herself, feeling very proud of herself when she manages to stick to it, stays away from the hard stuff. It’s something she has discussed with her (recently appointed) therapist, relearning how to drink socially and to have fun. So she’s careful. 

She can’t say the same for the rest of the team, however, laughing along with the others when she sees Jim and MacKenzie partaking in some kind of drinking game they had played with the marines. No one is surprised when Mac drinks Jim under the table, grinning widely and swaying ever so slightly after downing three shots in a row, Jim taking longer to recover between shots. 

Maggie notices Will then, standing beside Sloan at the other end of the table, the way he’s watching MacKenzie so loving and warm that Maggie almost has to look away.  
Sloan seems to realise he’s no longer paying attention to their conversation, shrugs and turns back to Don who places his hand on her hip. 

Sloan and Don. Maggie had been surprised when she had heard they were a couple, had apparently been completely oblivious to them even being friends, but, seeing them together, seeing the way they interact. She gets it. And her and Don are friendly again and she’s never had a problem with Sloan; she’d almost call them friends if she weren’t so intimidated by the other woman. 

And then Jim’s beside her, groaning as he leans forward on his elbows, and laughing with him feels like the most natural thing in the world. Sitting in Hang Chew’s with her friends, her family, laughing and joking around her, Maggie thinks, for the first time since returning from Uganda, that she might actually get through this. 

.

Tess is first to leave. Loudly announcing with a suggestive smirk that she’s going to get laid. Maggie knows that Tess moved in with her girlfriend last month and that they’re pretty serious so she just laughs, tells her to have fun. 

“I’ll share a cab with you,” Tamara says, gathering her things. 

And then there’s a flurry of activity and chatter as everyone talks over each other, trying to sort cabs and figure out who lives where. 

Maggie doesn’t live near anyone. She’s missed the last train but thinks she might be able to swing a cab on account of not buying a single drink herself tonight. If not, she’ll walk. The snow isn’t supposed to start for a couple of days. She is about to zip up her jacket, startles when someone loops their arm through hers. 

“Maggie,” Mac says loudly, eyes bright and unfocused. Her own coat is folded over her arm and Maggie wonders how she’s still wearing her heels, if Will is going to have to carry her home. “You can’t walk home.”

“I never said-“ she starts but Mac is already talking over her, leading her to the door. 

“It’s too far, it’s late. You can sleep on my couch.”

Maggie tries to argue, she really does. But MacKenzie seems to be overcompensating for not realising how much Africa had messed her up sooner. It’s been little things; bringing her coffee, taking her to lunch, making sure she has the chance to speak up during meetings. And don’t think she hasn’t noticed that Will is also taking time out of his day to check up on her. Maggie’s not sure how she feels knowing that Will and MacKenzie go home at night and talk about her. But she appreciates it all the same. 

And sometimes, like now, when Mac is holding onto her arm (it only takes three steps for Maggie to realise this is for MacKenzie’s benefit) and drunkenly giving her excuses for not going home alone, it’s just easier to give in and let MacKenzie care for her in the way she knows how. 

.

They get outside where half the group have split off already. Will is leaning against a wall, cigarette in hand, laughing as Don tries to coerce a drunk Sloan into a cab. His eyes light up completely when he sees MacKenzie, then frowns when he sees she hasn’t put on her coat. 

“Maggie’s sleeping on the couch,” Mac announces brightly, letting go of Maggie to run her hands along Will’s chest, stumbling only slightly. Will catches her by the elbows, squeezes lightly. 

“Okay, Hon. Let’s get your coat on. It’s freezing.”

This reminds Maggie that she hasn’t zipped her jacket up yet so she does this, watching as Will holds his cigarette between his lips, gently guides MacKenzie’s arms into her coat, manages to get three buttons done before Mac decides that’s enough. She murmurs something Maggie doesn’t hear, doesn’t think it was meant for her anyway judging by the soft look on Will’s face, before plucking the cigarette from his mouth and taking a long drag. 

When it’s clear Mac’s not going to give him the cigarette back, Will fishes the packet out his pocket - offers one to Maggie, who declines - and lights another. 

“Cab?” Will asks, wrapping his arm around Mac’s waist when she tucks herself into his side. She shakes her head. 

“Let’s walk. It’s a lovely night.”

“It’s freezing and it’s starting to snow,” Will tells her, but he turns anyway, starts to walk in the direction of his apartment. Maggie smiles at the way he looks back to make sure she is following them. 

“You know I love snow,” Mac says, almost breathlessly as she looks up at the sky with wide, bright eyes. 

Maggie has to agree. There’s something magical about snow, the way it drifts from the sky, almost sparkling. The way the whole city looks clean and brand new under a fresh snowfall. She doesn’t think she’ll ever tire of it, but that might be because she rarely had snow growing up in Kansas, hadn’t experienced a proper white Christmas until coming to New York.

Will grumbles something about ice and traffic and inconvenience but any real disdain is undercut by the way he tightens his grip on Mac, presses a kiss into her hair. 

“Maybe it’ll be a white Christmas,” Maggie says thoughtfully and MacKenzie beams at her.

.

They walk another ten minutes, Mac complaining the whole way, relying more on Will to hold her upright the further they go. Neither of them bother to point out that she was the one who wanted to walk. They make it to his building just as the snow starts to get heavier. 

In the elevator, MacKenzie leans against the wall, eyelids drooping as she kicks off her heels. Will bends to pick them up before she even manages to get them off and Maggie starts to question why she thought sleeping on her bosses sofa was a good idea and why she’s only realising now how awkward it might be. 

She’s only been here once before, the night of the bin Laden broadcast. It’s the exact same as she remembers, if not slightly more homey. That, she puts down to Mac’s belongings that seem to have amassed throughout the apartment. Shoes lying in the hallway, books piled up on the coffee table, new cushions and curtains adding a splash of colour to the monotonous decor Will has never bothered to do anything about. 

“This is the couch,” Mac says around a yawn. “I’ll get you pyjamas, blankets. Help yourself to whatever.”

Maggie nods, perches awkwardly on said couch, watching as Mac heads through the apartment, Will not far behind her. She feels slightly awkward sitting like this, but there’s not really anything she can do until Mac gets back. So she pulls out her phone. There’s a text from Jim, making sure she got home safely. And she’s glad they’re friends again even if it does feel somewhat bittersweet. A text from Neal with a link to a YouTube video he had been telling her about earlier. 

She replies to Neal first. _You won’t believe where I am_ , she types out, hits send. Out of all the staff Neal seems to be the most invested in Will and MacKenzie’s relationship, had taken it the hardest when word got out that Will was dating Nina Howard. Maggie knows this because Neal had taken the time to send her near daily updates when she was in Uganda. He still sends them sometimes, usually when it’s clear she’s having a bad day, so she figures she owes him this much. 

His reply comes in a minute later and she wishes she’d thought to FaceTime him, can only imagine the look on his face as she sends _crashing on Will’s couch. Mac insisted._

Neal replies instantly but the bedroom door opens and Will comes out so she puts down her phone, stands up. 

“She’s asleep,” Will says quietly, with that fondness that Maggie still isn’t used to. “Here.” He hands her pyjamas that she can only assume belong to Mac, points her in the direction of the bathroom and a spare toothbrush. 

When she comes out the couch is made up with blankets and pillows and there’s a glass of water and two Tylenol sitting on the coffee table. Not that she’ll need them, she thinks proudly. MacKenzie definitely will but Maggie has no doubt that Will is caring attentively for his fiancée. 

.

Maggie wakes up sometime after nine, blinking sleep out of her eyes as she remember where she is and how she got here. She gets up to use the bathroom and brush her teeth, then settles once more in her cocoon of blankets, a little bit hungry but unwilling to go through Will’s kitchen cabinets. So she replies to Neal’s texts that she had left unanswered, sends a text to Jim because they’re friends again and she can do that, flicks through one of the books on the coffee table - most of which are by Russian authors, some of which are even in Russian, by which she’s suitably impressed. 

The bedroom door clicks open and she turns to see Will padding barefoot down the hallway. There’s something about seeing Will McAvoy in pyjamas, with serious bed-head, that seems to humanise him, makes him a lot less intimidating. 

“Morning,” he says gruffly. “Coffee? You hungry?”

“Um, sure.”

Maggie stays on the couch, listening as he turns on the coffee machine, rummages through the fridge. Her phone is about to die and the book she’s been perusing ( _A Hero of Our Time_ by Lermentov - the English translation, of course) is nothing like the kind of book she would usually choose to read, so she untangles herself from her blankets, heads through to the kitchen and climbs onto one of the stools at the breakfast island. 

“Thanks for letting me stay,” she says, smiling when Will places a cup of coffee in front of her.  
“I don’t think we did you any favours,” he motions out the window where the snowfall is so heavy that she can barely see past it. “But you’re welcome anytime.”

They drink their coffee in silence, Maggie watching as Will cooks breakfast. She can’t remember the last time she had a full cooked breakfast. Wandering over to the window, she tries to gauge how difficult it’s going to be to get home. Especially since coming back to Will’s had actually taken her further from her apartment in the Lower East Side. The snow is coming down thick and fast, the streets completely covered. 

“I think you’ll be here a while,” Will tells her, sounding almost apologetic as he sandwiches the bacon and egg between some toast, adding a slice of cheese to each. “Any sauce?”

She shakes her head, comes back over to sit with him, thanking him when he slides what she’s pretty sure is a bacon and egg McMuffin towards her.

“How are you?” Will asks after a couple of minutes of eating in silence. He gestures vaguely. “You know, with everything.”

She thinks for a moment then tells him honestly, “I’m doing better.” She can’t tell what the looks he’s giving her means so she adds with a shrug, “I’m seeing a therapist. And it’s helping.”

Will smiles now. “That’s good.”

“It was Mac’s idea,” she blurts out. Because it had been. Maggie had seen the company psychiatrist for the minimum amount of mandated sessions, then stopped turning up altogether. Two days after the election night coverage, MacKenzie had stopped by her desk with a name and a phone number. “It’ll help,” she had promised. Hesitated, then: “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

“She cares about you.” Will has that look on his face, the one she is starting to associate with MacKenzie. He meets her gaze, clears his throat. “We both do.”

“I know,” Maggie says, voice barely above a whisper, not entirely sure how convincing she sounds, even though she _knows_ it's true.

“MacKenzie worries,” Will leans forward, breakfast forgotten. “And she feels guilty that she sent you there and she feels even more guilty that she didn’t notice sooner, but with Genoa and everything-“

“It’s not her fault,” Maggie cuts him off harshly, reeling at the thought of MacKenzie blaming herself for this, as though Maggie hadn’t begged for weeks. “I wanted to go.”

“I know that,” Will says gently, briefly places his hand over hers before pulling away. “But try telling her that.”

Maggie can feel Will’s eyes on her as she picks at her toast. She chews thoughtfully, trying to decide how to word what she wants to say next, if she should even tell him at all.

“There were riots. The week before we were due to fly out. People were hurt, and I never told MacKenzie because I thought she wouldn’t let me go if she knew.”

“You should talk to her about this,” Will suggests gently. “I think she’d understand what you’ve been through more than anyone.” 

Maggie frowns at this, toying with the idea in her head. Mac never really talks about her time embedded and Jim is always very flippant, although she supposes that’s probably a coping mechanism. 

“I’ll think about it,” she promises, grateful, and they finish their breakfast in a comfortable silence.

. 

MacKenzie stumbles out the bedroom just before noon, blinking blearily at them as she stands there in leggings and a Columbia Law sweatshirt that’s far too big for her. Maggie, curled up in the armchair, looks up from her book as Will gets up to greet her. 

“Morning,” he murmurs softly, reaches out to gently cup her elbow. “How are you feeling?”

She just shakes her head, pouting as Will pulls her into a hug. He presses a kiss to her hair then pulls away so he can bring her to sit on the sofa across from Maggie. “I’ll get you some coffee.”

He tugs gently on her ponytail as he passes and Mac wrinkles her nose, smiling softly as she reaches out to squeeze his fingers. 

Will comes back a couple of minutes later with coffee and a bagel. He places them on the coffee table, drops onto the sofa beside MacKenzie, who immediately tucks herself into his side. 

Maggie is surprised by how affectionate they are, but she supposes there’s a reason they don’t show this level of affection at work. She tries to go back to her book, can’t stop herself from glancing at them, the way they appear to be so at ease, so in sync. 

Will has one arm wrapped around Mac’s waist, the other holding a book open in his lap. Mac, between bites of her bagel, turns the pages for him when he struggles to do it one-handed. Eventually he stops trying to do it for himself and Maggie wonders if he’s giving MacKenzie some kind of signal to let her know he’s finished reading a page or if she just knows him that well. And when Maggie realises that Mac’s eyes are skimming over the pages too, she makes a note to tell Neal about this later. 

Maggie has always been curious about Will and MacKenzie as a couple, didn’t understand how Mac, who had been so warm and supportive from the second she introduced herself, could ever be with someone like the Will McAvoy from back then. Mean and intimidating, didn’t even bother to learn the names of people with whom he worked. So, no, she hadn’t been able to imagine them together when she’d first heard. 

It wasn’t until Mac had been at the show for maybe two months when Maggie saw a glimpse of what their relationship must have been like, what Will must have been like. Maggie doesn’t remember the specifics - what day of the week it was, the story they were running that day, but she does remember that MacKenzie had arrived fifteen minutes late for the first rundown meeting looking like she hadn’t slept in days and simultaneously like she was about to burst into tears and/or murder someone. 

The rest of the staff realised pretty quickly that they should avoid her and go to Will with their questions, which was almost funny if not for the fact that they skirted around Will where possible, going straight to MacKenzie for help. 

Probably around four o’clock, after an afternoon spent snapping at anyone who approached her, when she really looked like she was on the verge of breaking down, Will had come out his office. Maggie had watched him as he looked at Mac, couldn’t quite read his face. He definitely looked worried to some extent. 

Then he’d walked over to MacKenzie, stopped her mid-pace with his hands on her shoulders, and looked her firmly in the eye. She had stared him down defiantly for maybe thirty seconds before her shoulders slumped and her bravado left her. 

“Billy,” she had murmured softly, bottom lip trembling. 

“I know,” Will had said gently before guiding her into his office, hand on the small of her back. 

Mac had come out twenty minutes later, still very obviously worried about something but a lot more relaxed and calm, the smile on her face when Neal (very tentatively, and against all advice) told her a joke actually reaching her eyes. 

Maggie had caught Will stealing glances at her across the bullpen for the rest of the day.  
And as the weeks went on, she realised that staring longingly at MacKenzie was something Will did a lot. Mac too, but she was far less subtle about it. 

.

Someone’s phone beeps and Maggie startles, blushing slightly when she realises that she had zoned out long enough for Will to clear away the dishes and crumbs Mac had left behind. 

Mac feels around on the sofa for her phone, barely opening her eyes or lifting her head from where it rests on Will’s shoulder. Phone located, she holds it at arms length, eyes squinting. She elbows Will when he grumbles something about glasses and Maggie looks down at her book to hide her smile. 

“Sloan’s stuck at Don’s,” Mac says, typing a reply into her phone. “She says this will either make or break their relationship.” Then she kinda hesitates, glances at Maggie apologetically. 

“It’s fine,” Maggie says before Mac can say anything. “Me and Don were a long time ago. And they’re good together.”

MacKenzie smiles warmly at her, turns back to her phone as it beeps again. Types out another reply before throwing it down on the sofa, then -

“He won’t stay with her. Jim,” she clarifies, as though it had not been painfully clear who she meant. “He’s not in love with her.”

“Okay,” Maggie says, chuckling awkwardly. “Let’s not talk about this.”

Mac looks like she has more to say but Will places his hand on her knee and says, “Honey, please stop meddling.”

Maggie flashes him a grateful smile, looks down at the book in her lap as though she hasn’t been on the same page for half an hour. 

MacKenzie sits up slightly to shuffle into a more comfortable position, tilts her head back to rest against the back of the sofa. “I’ll have you know my meddling skills are admirable.”

And Will, as much as he defended Maggie earlier, is quick to take the bait. He turns to face his fiancée, eyebrows raised. 

“Name one time,” he challenges, amusement clear on his face. 

“Don and Sloan!” She cries, pushing herself onto her knees as she turns to face him. 

“I don’t know that you actually had all that much to do with them,” Will laughs. 

With a pout, Mac reaches out and gently pushes his shoulder. He takes her hand, tangles their fingers together. “Anyone else?”

She thinks for a moment, grinning triumphantly as she shuffles even closer to him, knees pressed against his thigh. “Us,” she declares proudly. “I meddled the hell out of us.”

“No,” Will says, letting go of her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “You simply annoyed your way back into my heart.” 

But there’s no bite behind it, in fact he sounds almost grateful. And MacKenzie seems to know this because she throws herself across his lap, wraps her arms around his waist, face pressed against his chest. 

.

Then It’s Maggie’s phone that rings (Will had looked out a box of wires and cables and they’d managed to find one that fit her phone) and she hates the butterflies she feels in her stomach when she sees Jim’s name on the screen. She waits until she’s out on the balcony before answering, very much aware that she may freeze to death out here, especially considering it’s still snowing, but she’s willing to take that risk if it means talking to Jim. 

“Hey,” she greets, hoping she doesn’t sound as awkward as she feels. “What’s up?”  
“Hey,” Jim’s voice comes through the phone. “Just checking in. You okay?”

The door opens behind her and Mac appears with a coat and scarf. Maggie accepts them with a grateful smile. Wriggles into the coat one-handed as she waits for Mac to go back in before speaking. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m still at Will and Mac’s actually.”

“How did you end up there in the first place? You live on the other side of Manhattan.”

So she recounts the story, from a drunken Mac inviting her to sleep on their sofa, to having breakfast with Will (she glosses over their conversation, not quite ready to open up to him about Africa - especially not over the phone), and finishes by telling him how oddly affectionate the couple are when they’re not at work. 

“I don’t know,” she says. “I just didn’t expect that from them.”

Jim’s quiet for a moment then he says, in a low voice, “you never heard how she would talk about him when we were embedded.”

Maggie considers this for a moment. It’s easy to forget how close he and Mac are, how, at one point, they were all the other had, how Jim had so willingly dropped everything and moved to New York simply because MacKenzie had asked him. And it’s because of this that Maggie lowers her voice and says softly, “she’s really happy, Jim.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and she can imagine him rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks pink as he looks down at the ground. His usual response to things like this. 

“I’m glad,” he says, voice just as soft. “She deserves to be happy.”

“She is,” Maggie assures once more. “They both are. It’s almost sickening,” she adds in an attempt to lighten the mood. It seems to work; Jim laughs down the phone, a real laugh that brings back her butterflies. 

“So, how long are you staying for?” He asks, changing the subject. 

“Not sure.” Maggie leans against the railing, looking out at the city, still covered by a flurry of snow. She can barely make out the building across the street. “I doubt I’ll get a cab and I don’t particularly want to walk in this snow, even if it is to get the train. And Will and MacKenzie can actually afford to turn their heating right up.”

“So, the winter then?” Jim laughs and Maggie does nothing to stop her own smile breaking out on her face. She’s glad she and Jim are friends again but she’s finding it increasingly difficult to hide her feelings from him. Figures the only time she doesn’t need to is when they’re talking over the phone and he can’t see her face. 

“Like you’ve got the heating on high,” she teases, all too aware of his rented apartment and all the issues he’s been having with his landlord. 

“Hallie’s new place has a fireplace,” he boasts before he can stop himself. And just like that, the mood changes. “Uh, Maggie, I-“ he trails off and she doesn’t quite know what to say either. 

“It sounds like you’re having a nice weekend,” she says eventually, hoping she doesn’t sound as miserable as she suddenly feels. 

This seems to ease some of the tension, however, as Jim laughs and says, “I’m not the one staying at Hotel McAvoy.”

“You could never afford it,” she tells him, glad to be back to teasing. “I’ve been saving up for years.”

Hallie says something to Jim then and, just like that, the moment is lost. Maggie can’t quite make it out but she recognises the other woman’s voice, from the very few, very brief, times they have spoken. 

“Hey, I have to go,” Jim says lowly and Maggie is certain she’s imagining the reluctance she can hear in his voice. 

“That’s okay. I should go in before I freeze to death on Will’s balcony.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jim chuckles softly. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“See you.”

The call ends but Maggie stays outside for another couple of minutes trying to clear her head. It’s not like she hadn’t been aware of the possibility of Jim spending the weekend with his girlfriend, his was long-distance girlfriend who moved to the city less than a week ago. But having it confirmed is something else entirely. Eventually it gets too cold, so she takes a deep breath, composes herself and goes back inside. 

Where it is blatantly obvious that Will and MacKenzie have been making out on the sofa. 

Will jumps up, moving to the furthest edge of the couch, as far from Mac as he can get. Mac, who is reclined across the sofa, a frown on her flushed face as she catches up with what has just happened. When she sees Maggie she smiles, pushes herself up. Will flinches when her arm presses against his and Maggie swears he is blushing. 

“Everything okay?” MacKenzie asks, seemingly oblivious to the tension radiating off Will, and Maggie who has been standing, mid-step for at least a minute once she realised what she had walked in on. 

“Yeah, it was just Jim.” Mac gives her a knowing look and now Maggie is the one who blushes. “He was just checking in. He’s at Hallie’s.” And she doesn’t know if she adds that last part to convince Mac there is nothing between her and Jim or to convince herself. 

Will, having apparently recovered from his earlier embarrassment, squeezes Mac’s knee before standing up. “Lunch?” He offers. 

Taking advantage of the space left behind, MacKenzie reclines once more, stretches out her muscles with a satisfied groan. 

“Lunch?” Will asks again, this time looking anywhere but at Mac, all too aware, Maggie can only assume, of their houseguest. 

“Lunch sounds lovely,” Mac says, reaching out to poke at his thigh with her toe. She swings her legs around, sits up. “Although I think I’m in desperate need of a shower first.”

“I could go a shower too,” Maggie blurts. She’d been hoping to put it off until she got home but she has no idea when that will be. And she also imagines that Will would have an incredible shower. “If that’s okay,” she continues, looking between them. “Just, I don’t think I’ll get home anytime soon and I feel kind of gross-“

“Maggie,” MacKenzie stands up, makes her way down the hallway. “Come on and I’ll get some clean clothes for you.”

.

When she comes back through to the living room, dressed in a pair of sweatpants softer than anything she owns and a faded Army t-shirt, Will is also freshly showered and Maggie chooses to believe that she took far longer than usual (which is true; she’d been right about Will’s shower) and that Mac had been exceptionally quick (which she doubts) and that’s why Will also had time to shower. (This she also doubts but the alternative isn’t something she wants to think about.)

They’re laughing at something, Will shaking his head fondly from where he stands at the kitchen island preparing their lunch, Mac’s eyes crinkling as she laughs unabashedly. And Maggie is once again struck by how they just seem to fit. 

“Grilled cheese okay?” Will asks when he notices her, traces of laughter still on his face. 

“More than okay,” Maggie says, climbing onto the stool across from Mac. If there’s ever a time to feel bad for having carbs and cheese for two of three meals, it’s not when she’s snowed in at her bosses apartment during a blizzard. 

Maggie is half-paying attention to their conversation, distracted by a text message from Jim. He’s attached an article, is asking for her opinion. And she should probably care more that this text about work is making her feel as giddy as it is, especially as their phone call had been interrupted by his girlfriend less than an hour ago. But the article is about the war in Syria, and he knows she’s been following that story closely.

“What dates are we in London?” Will asks nonchalantly. 

“Hmm,” Mac looks up from her Blackberry, unsure, brows furrowed as she thinks. “We leave on the 22rd I’m sure, fly home on the 27th.”

Maggie’s ears perk up at this and she figures that the fact they’re having this conversation with her in the room means she has every right to take part. 

“You’re spending Christmas in London?” She asks carefully. 

“With my parents,” Mac smiles while Will makes a face. 

“I bet London’s magical at Christmas,” Maggie says. 

“New York is magical at Christmas,” Will grumbles, but he looks more worried than anything. 

“My parents love you,” Mac reminds him gently, placing her hand over his. 

And Maggie briefly flashes back to what feels like forever ago, trying to convince Don to meet her parents while he made every excuse he could think of to avoid it. She imagines Will had been all too willing to meet MacKenzie’s parents. 

“They used to,” he corrects. “But I very much doubt that’s still the case.”

“I’m pretty sure my mum took your side in the break up,” Mac jokes, although Maggie doesn’t miss the look of understanding that passes between them, the way Will tightens his grip on her hand ever so slightly. “You were like the son she never had.”

This seems to relax Will, who lets go of her hand and goes back to slicing cheese for their lunch. “She has a son,” he points out, the hint of a smile on his face. 

“Barely.” Mac rolls her eyes, turns to Maggie to explain. “My brother lives in Moscow with his family. We don’t see each other that often because he refuses to come to the States and he hates it when I visit.” Maggie frowns, opens her mouth to question this when Mac continues, seemingly anticipating her question. “He hates that my Russian is miles better than his even though I haven’t lived there for years.”

Maggie is suitably impressed, can think of a thousand questions she’d like to ask MacKenzie about her time in Russia, Hell, about her time anywhere. It’s no secret that Mac has lived a very impressive life. But Will speaks before she has the chance to ask even a single question. Maggie supposes it’s for the best that she doesn’t derail their entire conversation. Although this explains all the books on the coffee table at least.

“Is he coming for Christmas?”

“As far as I’m aware. You know, I think this is the first time we’ll all be together in years.”

Will smiles at her, turns to put their sandwiches onto the grill. “That’ll be nice. For your parents, I mean.”

Maggie goes back to her phone, manages to read through a couple more paragraphs of Jim’s article in the silence that follows. 

After a couple of minutes of comfortable silence, Mac looks up from her Blackberry once more, turns to Will. “Let’s agree, right now, that our kids aren’t going to be allowed to live more than a hundred miles away from wherever we’re living.”

Maggie blushes, is pretty sure she’s no longer part of this conversation. She tries to continue with the article but she can’t help it when her eyes drift up. 

Will looks at Mac, a thoughtful look on his face. “Agreed,” he says, voice even and sure. 

MacKenzie gives him a satisfied smile before turning back to her phone and, not for the first time since she got here, does Maggie feel bad for ever doubting their relationship.  
(Although, in her defence, they do spend a lot of time arguing and yelling. Maybe the benefit to arguing so much at work is that they have nothing left to fight about when they get home. Or maybe, she thinks, as Mac stands to get something from the fridge, wrapping her arms around Will as she passes and pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades, they’re just truly, disgustingly in love.)

.

They settle in the living room after lunch. The TV is on, some old Hollywood movie to which no one is really paying attention. Will had turned the volume down low anyway, when Mac had lain across the couch, her head in his lap, and promptly fallen asleep. Now he’s continuing his book, fingers gently combing through her hair. 

Maggie is in the armchair, one of the blankets from her sofa bed tucked around her legs. She’s managed to get through another chapter of _A Hero of Our Time_ but then Jim texts her again and she loses all concentration. They text back and forth for a while and maybe she’s reaching but it feels like they’re verging on flirting. Until he suddenly stops replying and she’s forced to remember that he’s spending the weekend with his girlfriend. So she puts her phone down, reads the same paragraph at least four times before sighing loudly and putting her book down too. 

Will gives her a questioning look and Maggie regards him for a moment; the way he looks so completely comfortable and at ease with MacKenzie sprawled across his lap, how happy he looks. And she wonders if there was ever a time he thought he wouldn’t get this back. 

“Do you ever-“ Maggie stops, slumps back in her seat, ready to pretend she hadn’t opened her mouth. 

“Yes?” Will prompts, and it’s this softer, caring side she’s seen to him this weekend that encourages her to continue. 

“Do you ever wish you’d said something sooner?”

He frowns slightly, thinking for a moment. “Do you mean do I wish I’d got my head out my ass and proposed the moment I realised I still loved her?” Shrugging, he looks down at Mac, runs his hand gently along her side before turning back to Maggie. “Sometimes. But we are where we are. And we’re happy.”

Maggie opens her mouth to speak but changes her mind, unsure if she should continue this conversation or not. But then Will places his book on the arm of the sofa, waits for her to speak with a patient smile on his face. So Maggie asks the first thing that comes to mind. 

“When did you realise?” And she’s glad he seems to know what she means because she can already feel her cheeks reddening under his gaze. 

“The night of the bin Laden broadcast,” he says plainly. “I left her a voicemail that she never got, it was a whole thing.”

Maggie’s brow furrows as she does the math. Eighteen months. A year and a half. And for what? It seems it had been painfully obvious to everyone, but Will and Mac, that Will and Mac were hopelessly in love with each other. 

“That’s a long time,” she says softly. Because she doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know how to tell Will that she doesn’t understand how he can be so okay with all the time they wasted. She doesn’t miss the way Will’s hand tightens around Mac’s waist, the other tracing soft patterns along her hairline. 

“I was still holding onto my anger,” he says with a shrug, answering the question she was too afraid to ask. “And it reached a point where I realised I was just making us both miserable, and that everything I was doing was hurting her.” He leans forward now, as much as he can without jostling Mac, holds her gaze. “You have to decide how long you’re willing to wait. I was lucky, _so lucky_ , that MacKenzie was still waiting for me when I was ready. But you also have to decide if you’re not together because Jim doesn’t love you or if it’s because he thinks you don’t love him.”

Maggie considers this thoughtfully, a frown settling on her face as she thinks about all that could go wrong. 

Mac stirs then, blinking blearily up at them from where her head still rests on Will’s lap. “You’re a big sap,” she murmurs, reaching for his hand and pulling his arm tightly around her as her eyes flutter closed once more. 

“What if I ruin things and we can’t be friends anymore?” Maggie asks quietly. 

Will’s quiet for a moment, doesn’t take his eyes off of MacKenzie when he responds. 

“You have to decide if having that conversation is worth the risk,” he murmurs. For me, it wasn’t even a question.” 

.

It’s late by the time the snow stops and the streets look like they’re starting to clear. It’s also freezing outside, if the slight gust of wind that comes in when Will slips out onto the balcony to smoke is anything to go by, so Maggie is beyond grateful when Mac insists she stay until the morning. 

“Will we put a movie on?” MacKenzie offers, leaning forward and squinting at the shelf below the TV. “I think we own maybe four movies between us.” She gets up now, crouches down in front of the TV and pulls out a couple of DVDs. “So we have three musicals, _The Shawshank Redemption_ , and _Rudy_. Oh, and the second _Lord of the Rings_ movie. Or we could watch something on Netflix.”

“Is _Rudy_ the one that makes Will cry?” MacKenzie nods, eyes crinkling at the sides. “That one then.”

Maggie watches as Mac sets up the movie, bottom lip tucked beneath her teeth as she seemingly struggles to switch the TV to the DVD player. She gives her another couple of minutes before offering to help. 

“I should be able to figure this out,” Mac says, but hands her the remote anyway. “With all the time I spend in the control room.”

Maggie thinks about reminding her of the time she accidentally sent a very personal email to forty-seven reporters but quickly decides against it. Not that she thinks Mac will rescind her invitation and send her packing, but she’d rather not find out. 

Will comes in then, hooking his arm around Mac’s waist as he passes, presses a kiss to her cheek, smiling when she startles. 

“You’re cold,” she complains, but she leans into his touch anyway, covers his hand with hers. 

“Drink?” He offers, nuzzling his face against her cheek before pulling away. 

“Please.”

“Maggie?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

MacKenzie grabs the remote from where Maggie left it on the table and, after rearranging some cushions and blankets, spreads out across the sofa. 

.

“What are we watching?” Will asks as he comes back into the room, placing a bottle of red wine and two wine glasses on the table. He stops in front of the sofa, looks down at Mac who, smiling up at him sweetly, turns onto her side and shuffles forward ever so slightly. Sighing loudly (although even Maggie can see the hint of a smile on his face) he brings one knee up to rest beside Mac’s thigh, holds onto the back of the couch for balance, before throwing himself onto the sofa, Mac shrieking with laughter when he covers most of her body with his. 

“We’re watching _Rudy_ ,” she says, accidentally elbowing him in the chest as she wriggles out from under him, moves up the sofa slightly, trying to get more comfortable. 

“Who chose it?” Will grumbles, settling into the gap between MacKenzie and the back of the sofa. 

“It was an unanimous decision,” Maggie says through a grin, from the armchair that she is pretty sure will have an indentation of her butt by the end of the weekend. 

Will looks between the two women, eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like I’m being ganged up on here?”

“Because you are,” Mac says with a smirk. “Now shut up and watch the movie.”

.

Maggie is surprised when she actually enjoys the movie. She’s so engrossed that she doesn’t realise that Mac and Will have both fallen asleep until she glances over at them during the jersey scene, fully expecting to see Will trying to hide tears. What she actually sees is Mac sprawled on her back, Will’s head on her chest, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist while one of Mac’s hands rests firmly on his back, the other hanging off the sofa. (And maybe Maggie takes a picture to send to Neal, so what? She swears him to secrecy before she sends it but she also wouldn’t be surprised if he made it his desktop background first thing Monday morning.)

Then she turns back to the screen, where she only cries a little bit, but that’s mostly because she’s thinking of when Mac had everyone in the newsroom recreate it for Will.

When the credits start to roll, Maggie reaches for the remote to pause the TV. Doesn’t get up yet, too busy texting Neal (who had been delighted by her latest update). And also because her bed is currently in use. At some point MacKenzie turns onto her side, hooks her leg over Will’s hip as she presses closer to him. And Maggie begins to question if she’ll actually get to bed tonight. 

Just as she is considering waking them, or just sleeping in their bed, to be honest; she’s certain they’d have an amazing mattress, MacKenzie wakes up, stretching from her spot in Will’s arms before turning ever so slightly to face Maggie. 

“We missed the end of the movie,” she says sheepishly. She stifles a yawn. “Did you like it?”

“I didn’t cry,” Maggie says (lies) pointedly. “But it was good.” She figures it was probably for the best that they both fell asleep; seeing Will and MacKenzie so intimately intertwined, she imagines, is a thousand times better than seeing Will McAvoy cry over a movie would ever be  
.  
MacKenzie squints at her watch, turns to Maggie apologetically. “You should’ve woken us. We’re in your bed.”

“It’s okay,” Maggie says, holding up her phone. “I’ve been catching up on the news. And it’s not long finished.”

Mac turns back to Will, nudges him gently, a fond smile forming on her face when he mumbles something incomprehensible and burrows his face into the curve of her neck. 

“Billy,” she murmurs, one hand reaching up to tangle in his hair. “Wake up.” 

He mumbles something else that Maggie can’t make out but Mac laughs. 

“You’ll fuck up your back if we stay on the sofa. Besides, where will Maggie sleep?”

This seems to rouse him and he lifts his head slightly, blinking sleep out of his eyes. Mac brings the hand that had been in his hair down to cup his face, thumb stroking along his cheek, whispers, “Hi.”

And Maggie is starting to feel that immense awkwardness she had been so worried about on Friday night. So she gets up to go to the bathroom, desperately trying to ignore the way Mac and Will are literally just gazing into each other’s eyes, smiling sappily, but also wondering if she should maybe stay in the room to stop something happening on the sofa on which she’s supposed to be sleeping. Because, honestly, that’s the last thing she needs today. 

.

Maggie comes out of the bathroom to find Will has moved from his spot on the sofa - presumably gone to fall asleep in his own bed - and MacKenzie standing at the window, a mug of tea in her hands. 

“Snow’s clearing,” she says softly, shoots Maggie a small smile. “Looks like you’ll be able to get home tomorrow.”

Maggie comes to stand beside her, surveys the streets below. 

“I hope so,” she murmurs, stretching her arms above her head. “Not that I don’t appreciate you letting me stay. But it’ll be nice to get home and wear my own clothes, sleep in my own bed.”

Not that she’s not been enjoying wearing MacKenzie’s insanely comfortable sweatpants and pyjamas that are probably more expensive than anything she’ll ever own. But she misses her apartment and her bed, even her laptop - and the tentative friendship her and Lisa have been rebuilding. 

Mac brings her mug to her lips, has to divert it at the last second as she tries to stifle a yawn. 

“I think,” she says, with a self-conscious chuckle and shrug of one shoulder, “that I’ve slept more today than I have the past month combined.” With a heavy sigh, she shakes her head, reaches out to squeeze Maggie’s arm. “Night, Maggie.”

Maggie watches her go and, not for the first time, does she feel an overwhelming sense of fondness for MacKenzie. She sometimes wonders what would’ve happened if she had gone with Don to ten o’clock, if Mac hadn’t noticed some hidden potential (that she struggled to see herself, still does, sometimes, if she’s being honest) and promoted her to AP after knowing her for five minutes, if Will hadn’t been able to sort his shit and had fired Mac all the times he had threatened to (usually mid-argument or when she wouldn’t give in to his every demand and idea for the show). Either way, Maggie’s really glad Mac came to _News Night_ when she did. She’s not sure how much longer she could have put up with the Will McAvoy from back then. 

Settling on the sofa, having put her phone on silent for the night, Maggie burrows into the pile of cushions and blankets, pulling one of the blankets tightly around herself when she hears a loud giggle, followed by a crash and then a muffled groan coming from down the hall. One of them, she’s pretty sure Will, shushes the other between laughter, and Maggie is beyond relieved that she thought to shove her iPod in her bag before she left for work on Friday morning. And the noise cancelling headphones for which she’d saved up for months to drown out the drunks and catcallers on her commute. She somehow manages to fall asleep to the _Two Door Cinema Club_ album Martin had recommended the week before, and not to the sounds of MacKenzie and Will doing what she doesn’t even want to entertain in the slightest.

.

Maggie wakes, tangled in the wire of her headphones, to the smell of freshly made coffee coming from the kitchen. She wanders through, a blanket draped over her shoulders, to find MacKenzie eyeing up ingredients lined up along the kitchen island, for what Maggie assumes is scrambled eggs, hands on her hips and a frown on her face. 

“Morning,” Maggie says, sitting up at one of the stools. “What are you making?”

Mac turns to her, bites her lip. “I was going to make scrambled eggs but I have no idea where to start. Coffee?”

“Please.”

“Did you sleep okay?” Mac asks absentmindedly as she turns to pour her some coffee. 

Maggie hesitates, long enough that she still hasn’t said anything by the time Mac places a mug in front of her. And then Maggie can feel herself blushing under Mac’s questioning gaze, mouth open as she tries to force something out, literally any of the words she knows would do. 

“Yeah, totally,” she ends up spluttering, reaching for her coffee just to have something to do that isn’t making this situation a thousand times more awkward than it needs to be.

It doesn’t exactly work; there’s an awkward silence, then - 

“Oh God,” MacKenzie groans, burying her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t - I have my iPod with me,” Maggie stammers, cheeks burning as Mac refuses to meet her eyes. 

“This is mortifying.” Eventually, Mac turns to her slowly. “Let’s never mention this again. Ever.”

Maggie nods frantically. “Deal.”

“And let’s not tell Will.”

Figuring that Will would never speak to her again, much less look at her, if he knew she had heard him and MacKenzie having sex, Maggie emphatically agrees to this. 

They manage to move on from their terribly awkward encounter surprisingly quickly, MacKenzie giving her one last look of sheer embarrassment before turning back to their breakfast. 

“Okay,” she says, more to herself than anyone else, Maggie thinks. “Let’s do this.”

And Maggie can only look on in concern as Mac makes a feeble attempt at scrambling eggs.

“Do you want some help?” She asks as MacKenzie struggles to crack an egg on the edge of the bowl. 

“No,” Mac shakes her head stubbornly. “You’re a guest.”

“If you’re sure,” Maggie says as Mac sheepishly picks bits of eggshell out the bowl of yolk. 

“Are you doing okay?” Mac asks after a moment, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she focuses on beating the eggs. 

Maggie hesitates for the briefest moment before she answers. “Yeah. Well - I’m getting there. I - thank you.” She’s not entirely sure what she’s thanking her for, but all she knows is that Mac has done more for her than she could ever ask for.

She doesn’t miss the sullen look on Mac’s face as she turns away slightly. 

“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” Mac murmurs, staring down at the eggs with a frown. “I didn’t -“ Putting the bowl down, she rests her forearms on the counter, leaning forward to look at Maggie. “There’s a lot of things I should’ve done differently.”

And Maggie gets the sense she’s not just talking about letting her go to Africa. It was no secret that MacKenzie had taken Genoa the hardest, that she blamed no one but herself. It had been obvious in the way she acted in the weeks following the retraction; unsure, withdrawn, second guessing herself. Coming in every morning with dark circles under her eyes, glaringly obvious even under her make-up. 

Hopping down from her stool, Maggie makes her way around the counter to stand directly in front of Mac, whose eyes, she’s horrified to see, are filling with tears as her bottom lip quivers. Maggie has no idea what to do or how to help. MacKenzie has always seemed so tough, so infallible. And seeing her like this has Maggie blinking back tears of her own as she swallows around a lump in her throat. She briefly considers waking Will, has no doubt that he’ll know how to comfort a crying MacKenzie more than she ever could. Deciding against this just as quickly, Maggie reaches for her hand and tells her in a firm, if somewhat uneven, voice: 

“Nothing that happened is your fault.”

“Has anyone told you that yet?” Mac asks with a watery laugh, brings one hand up to wipe at her eyes. “It’s not the easiest thing to let yourself believe.”

“No,” Maggie says quietly, still grasping Mac’s hand. “It’s not.”

Maggie doesn’t say anything when Mac pulls away, can tell she’s embarrassed. So she sips her coffee, looking on as Mac picks up the bowl and starts furiously mixing the eggs.

“I’ve been seeing a therapist,” Maggie blurts out a few minutes later. “Well, I’ve seen her three times. The one you recommended.”

“That’s really good, Maggie.” Mac glances up at her, a small smile on her face, and Maggie is relieved to see that she no longer appears to be on the verge of tears. “Are you seeing her again?”

She nods, pleased with herself for taking this step. “Tuesday morning.”

Deeming the eggs to be suitably beaten, MacKenzie puts the bowl back down and scans the rest of the ingredients, brow furrowed. 

“You know you can talk to me, too,” she says, picking up the milk and unscrewing the top. “How much milk do I add? Do I add milk?”

“I think so,” Maggie says with a shrug. “Maybe butter? And Mac -“ She waits until MacKenzie finishes pouring the milk into a jug, crouched down so she is at eye level, a look of intense concentration on her face. “Thanks for, you know, being there or -“ 

Her voice breaks towards the end but she’s cut off anyway, by Mac throwing her arms around her and pulling her into a hug. It catches her off guard, but not as much as they tears that suddenly spill out her eyes or the sob that gets caught in her throat. But Maggie supposes that’s what happens when you spend months repressing your emotions. So she brings her arms up to return the hug, presses her face into Mac’s shoulder, and lets herself be comforted for the first time since coming home. 

“Oh, Maggie,” MacKenzie murmurs softly, combing one hand through her hair while the other rubs soothing circles on her back. “You’re okay.”

Will comes in then, a concerned frown on his face, and Maggie goes to pull away, embarrassed almost, but Mac just holds her tighter, reaches for Will who tentatively wraps an arm around her when Mac tugs him towards them. Of course, this just makes her cry harder. 

Maggie doesn’t know how long they stay like that, how long MacKenzie and Will hold her as she cries in their kitchen, but she does know that when she does pull away, it feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest and her whole body feels lighter.

Will still looks concerned, and somewhat confused, which makes sense considering he hadn’t been present for their conversation pre-tears. He opens his mouth to say something but Mac gives him a look that he seems to be able to decipher because he hesitates, looks around the room, before settling on, “are you scrambling eggs?”

“Are you hungry?” Mac asks sweetly, and Maggie thinks the way she flutters her eyes up at Will, bottom lip tucked between her teeth, is more to distract from the terrible job she has done trying to make them breakfast than anything else. 

“Honey,” Will says fondly, a trace of amusement in his voice as he lifts up the bowl to examine the mushy, soggy contents. “You’ve never scrambled eggs in your life.”

“There’s always a first time for everything.” Mac crosses her arms over her chest, feigning indignation as she turns away from Will to hide the smile threatening to cover her face. 

“Come on,” He says, nudging her shoulder before reaching up to gently tug at the lock of hair that has come loose from her ponytail. “I’ll treat you to brunch.”

.

Maggie declines their offer of brunch, as nice as it sounds. And as tempted as she is by the quality of food in the eateries they frequent at which she can only dream of eating. But the morning has already taken a toll on her and it’s barely ten o’clock. And she’s pretty sure this entire weekend has been the most bizarre weekend of her life. So she’s more than ready to go home and decompress. And try to get over her bosses doing it down the hall from her before she has to face them at work tomorrow. 

It’s freezing outside but the snow has mostly turned to slush. Maggie is glad to be wearing another pair of MacKenzie’s impossibly soft sweatpants rather than the flimsy tights she had been wearing on Friday. MacKenzie had also, after seeing the pumps she had been wearing to work, practically forced Maggie into a pair of her boots. And now they’re out on the street and Maggie can walk through the slushy puddles without fear of frostbite, she’s very much grateful for that. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Mac asks her once more as they near the subway station, tucking herself into Will’s side at a sudden gust of cold wind. 

“Thanks, but I’m ready to go home,” Maggie tells her with a small exhausted smile. “But thank you. For this weekend, and for everything.”

Mac smiles, reaches out to squeeze her hand at the same time Will says, “We’re always here. If you need anything.” This is punctuated with an awkward smile and the briefest of touches to her arm. 

“Thank you,” she repeats, voice firm and warm. “I really am grateful.”

“Okay,” Mac says in a choked voice, pulling her into a quick hug that she barely has time to return. “Get home safe. And we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Maggie nods, smiling warmly at them. She gives a small, sheepish wave, turns to make her way through the small crowd of people at the station’s entrance. She glances back at them, watches as they walk down the street hand in hand, Will laughing fondly as Mac animatedly tells him something, a smile on her face. Shaking her head slightly, Maggie smiles to herself before heading into the station. 

.

Neal’s waiting at her desk when she comes into work the next morning, face splitting into an excited grin when he says her. 

“How was your weekend?” He asks before she even has her coat off and she can’t help but laugh at his eagerness, even if it is a bit strange. Although, after spending the weekend observing Will and Mac interact outside of work, she can kind of see where Neal’s fascination comes from. 

Maggie thinks for a minute, deciding how much of her weekend she actually wants to share with him. She doubts he’d be interested in hearing about Will’s relationship advice, or how she ended up crying in Mac’s arms. There’s a high chance he’d be interested in hearing about their intimacies and shared touches but that almost feels too personal to share, the side of their relationship they don’t share at work. Maggie just knows that Neal will be interested to know that Will and Mac were up half the night having sex (she knows this because one of them had woken her coming through for a glass of water just after three and she had squeezed her eyes tightly shut and pretended to still be asleep), but that also feels too personal, and she made a pact with Mac to never mention it again. Maggie can only assume that means with anyone at all and not just with her or Will. 

Maggie drops into her chair, swivelling it side to side as Neal continues to look at her expectantly. She meets Jim’s eyes across the bullpen, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he grins at her and her mind turns to what Will said. Sure, she might not be able to wait forever, but she’s willing to wait for now. With this in mind, she returns his smile, jokingly rolling her eyes as she motions to Neal with a shrug.

“Maggie,” Neal says slowly, waving his head in front of her face. “Can you hear me?”

“It was disgusting,” Maggie settles on, turning back to him with a teasing grin as she starts up her computer. “All they do is make eyes at each other and hold hands.”


End file.
